


A Time For Peace

by allofthismatters



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 22:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10954230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofthismatters/pseuds/allofthismatters
Summary: Set in the immediate aftermath of the Final Battle; they can all take a deep breath now, and Killian can start to cope with all that's happened.





	A Time For Peace

Dazed and buzzing with fresh relief, it feels wrong for the lot of them to simply part ways for the night. At some point, it’s agreed on that there’s no need to wake Granny this late at night when the loft has a perfectly good stove, and so that’s where they all go. Killian holds Emma tightly as they walk, feeling her exhaustion in the heaviness of her steps—so at odds the radiant peace on her face.

He wishes he were in such good shape. He feels like he’s holding hysteria only just at bay.

Emma helps her mother dig through the cupboard once they’re upstairs, handing her pots and a tea kettle. Snow shoos her away when she tries to fill them with water, and he watches as she slumps onto the couch. Henry follows, handing his mother a glass of water before collapsing next to her.

It’s good, he thinks. He’s grown so much, but he needs to be just a boy for now.

She pulls her son’s head to her shoulder, a hand coming up to ruffle his hair affectionately and her smile nearly makes his legs buckle. She was as good as dead on the street not an hour ago and now she’s here, content and—

_Bloody breathtaking._

The rings on her finger—so new yet so right— catch the light and he swallows hard.

_My wife. My_ wife.

_And…my boy. If that’s what he wants._

He looks at them with reverent humility. _My family._

Alive. Loved. And finally safe.

He doesn’t go to them right then. He feels the adrenaline wearing off and knows if he does, he’ll lose it. His legs are unsteady with exhaustion, anguish, hunger…his chest is tight with lingering anxiety, and he feels like he’ll vomit if he stands there doing nothing for a moment longer.

So he joins Snow in the kitchen, frantically occupying himself stirring pasta and retrieving plates.

Visions of loss start interrupting his thoughts, jarring enough to make him physically recoil and forget to breathe. The sinking in his stomach as he woke up in the Enchanted Forest grasping for Emma but finding empty space…the wave of helpless nausea at the sound of her sword hitting the ground in surrender…savage, primal rage at the sharp metal destroying her body, her goodness and the future they’d worked so hard to earn. 

It’s not until he feels Snow’s gentle touch on his arm that he realizes he’s shaking badly.

“Killian. She’s safe. Eat and then you can take her home.”

——

He manages to keep himself composed through dinner, and has to swallow a lump in his throat at the door when Snow squeezes his hand in one of hers, and her daughter’s in the other.

“Take care of each other. I don’t want to see either of you until you’ve slept for a day or two.” She smiles and kisses each of them on the cheek, her eyes filling with tears.

——

The walk home is tense and silent, but his strength doesn’t betray him until he opens their front door. He goes in first, and while he doesn’t necessarily mean to carry her over the threshold, that’s what happens as he pulls her against him hard enough to lift her off her feet.

They don’t get a whole lot farther than the door.

Everything comes up—the panic, the grief, the heartache of having her pulled out of his grip over and over again the past few months. The sound he makes isn’t human and in an instant, she has him. He clutches at her, desperate to feel her and because it’s his only hope of staying upright. His lips start at her temple and kiss frantically around her face, then down her neck, between her clothed breasts until he’s on his knees, face pressed to her stomach, trying to let her scent calm him.

She quickly joins him, taking firm hold of his face and muttering words he can’t even focus on.

He’s sick of losing her, he’s sick of having to leave her, he’s sick of blue circles under both their eyes and sick of her too-prominent bones from being too stressed out to eat properly over the past months.

He’s not sure how long they stay like that, only that little by little he comes back to himself and finds Emma’s eyes, feels her hands on his face and brings his knuckles up to clear the tears from her own cheeks.

Her face is crumpled with emotion, but she smiles at him and nods resolutely. She says nothing but doesn’t have to, because he nods back to her, agreeing without words. It feels like marrying her all over again, vows passing silently and fiercely through the space between them, defiant against everything that’s happened to them and against anything that could ever happen. 

His life has felt like one long war, plagued with enough heartbreak and utter exhaustion to nearly break him, but now, somehow, there is only peace stretching out before them. He knows it in the marrow of his bones, and he knows she does, too. And looking at their rings side by side on their tightly clasped fingers, feeling his chest clench and eyes sting with love for her, all he can think is—

_For this, it was all bloody worth it._


End file.
